Drowning on Air
by Whitefeather
Summary: Snape returns to the Headmaster's office after the end of HBP not to ask for forgiveness or laugh at the portrait's face but to seek the understanding he himself didn't have about what transpired.


Drowning on Air

AN- This idea seemed very done, and I saw it a lot in the immediate aftermath of HBP's release. I tried to take it not as much as Snape going for Dumbledore's forgiveness, but for his own well-being and understanding so that, regardless of the side he'd been on (although I'm a staunch Snape-and-Dumbledore-worked-in-out believer, this piece doesn't give a definite side for his actions) he could move onward with what has to be done.

* * *

The door to the headmaster's office in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been charmed by the late Albus Dumbledore to be open to those who seek his aid.

Severus Snape threw off his invisibility cloak and sank down in front of the old wooden desk he'd seen hundreds of times before. Nothing had changed—because it wasn't certain that the school would re-open, he surmised. Minerva McGonagall wasn't one to count her chickens before they hatched; thus everything was still exactly as it was before.

Before… he let out a short, humorless laugh. His life had been defined by the Dark Arts and Dark Lord from the time he was born until that fateful day when he was ordered by Voldemort to spy on Dumbledore—wherein he learned countless lessons that would shape him for his later years.

"Are you searching for something?"

Snape froze and whirled around to find Dumbledore's portrait staring at him with his eyes twinkling madly—much as they did before his death. He felt the breath catch in his throat and for a wild moment thought he would die—die of drowning on air. The picture-Dumbledore stood slowly and looked him square in the eye.

"I asked you a question, Severus. Now, what is it that you are searching for? Forgive my assumption, but I doubt a man as yourself would return here so soon after an event as the one that transpired without solid reason. So tell me, why are you here?"

Again, Snape stared at Dumbledore without speaking. He two men stared at one another, and the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to fade out as the time transpired. Finally, he sat back down and looked to the side. "You don't know why you're here." He muttered. It wasn't a question. His presuming nature made Snape feel angry and trapped—like he had no choice, like he felt whenever he was with the older man. He exploded.

"Why did you trust me? You knew for a fact that I worked for Voldemort and had no intention of leaving his side when your brother caught me! Yet you housed me, gave me protection, and when he returned, an alibi and free pass to return to him! How could you have been so blind as not to see, right before you, that I was relaying everything back to him? You were never stupid! You were never wrong! So why, why, _why_ did you trust me?"

Dumbledore lowered his glasses, and Snape felt as though he were under a microscope. "Don't play games with me! _I killed you! _So tell me why!"

He sank lower onto the ground, almost as though he were trying to fall down lower than it could take him.

Dumbledore sighed. "You came here for me to get angry, yell at you, tell you I was wrong. I, Severus, cannot say what you want me to say." Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore interrupted again. "I was wrong, of course, to think that the Dark Arts didn't hold as much of a bearing on you as they do—I should have held fast to my keeping you from the Defense Position--"

"Why did you give me that job?" Snape interrupted softly.

"One question at a time, Severus, although I will answer this one next since it falls into the correct chronological timeframe. I gave you the job because it came time for you to make your final decision. The job, as I'm sure you've heard rumors of, is cursed. Cursed, in fact, by Voldemort (Snape shuddered, but did not interrupt) himself. If you were truly loyal to him, I assumed that he would remove the curse to allow you to continue your stay at Hogwarts and spy on me. He, however, must have had a different idea on you, considering he didn't, and thus wanted you by his side and not mine, where he could keep a closer eye on you. He saw you here, reporting Order meetings and talking with me behind closed doors. The idea of you without him scared Voldemort—he had entrusted you with the perfect amount. Where you are, you're too valuable to dispose of should you become dangerous, but should you slip up or turn sides—and he does know you're a spectacular occumens for your lying to me—you're too dangerous to let go. So he gave Draco Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy parts in his little charade, parts enough so that you would fall back into his hands. He manipulated you to the fullest extent to get what he needed."

"Sounds like you, Albus," Snape muttered. The man in the portrait smiled. "Sounds exactly like something you'd set up."

Silence filled the room. The other Headmasters and Headmistresses weren't pretending to be asleep any longer—in fact, they sat in deep attention to the man before them. When they had done this last—the night only a week ago when Severus had last came to this office and snapped at Dumbledore for what could only be counted as the millionth time over his spying duties—he had become angry and only had his years and years of dealing with students such as Potter and Weasley had kept him from ripping their pictures from the wall.

Yet now he felt nothing. Even worse, he felt nothing to the point where he knew, for a fact, that it would never be the same again. No matter his fate.

"What now, then," Snape muttered to himself, forgetting the portrait that was facing him with merciful eyes.

Dumbledore sighed. "It will be alright in the end. If it isn't alright, it's not the end."

Snape laughed humorlessly. "I'm facing a life on the run with no one to turn to. I'm most likely going to die face-down in some ditch with an Auror laughing and the Dark Lord turning his back on me. Not that it's not what I deserve, but it's not exactly something to be looking forward to. Or anything that I'd call _alright_."

Dumbledore sighed. "There are others who would trust you, I only you'd understand, and let yourself be open to reality..." his voice faded off.

Snape walked to the window and looked out over the grounds. His eyes caught sight of the Whomping Willow, the old tree by the lake, the quidditch pitch, the stars themselves that shielded a grand heaven...

"Tell me why I killed you," Snape whispered, staring at the stars.

Behind him, Dumbledore smiled. "We needed to win the war. We needed you."

Then another voice.

"Because I need your help in defeating him," Harry Potter said softly, moving out from under his invisibility cloak.


End file.
